


Olive Lace and A Little White Bow

by rosarycrown



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, NSFW, PWP, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosarycrown/pseuds/rosarycrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean would probably take how Castiel had actually convinced him to wear these – let alone during a goddamn FBI impersonation, just to work him up while he was trying to do the job – to his grave. No one could tell, obviously, what was underneath his slack and shoes, but Dean felt just as self conscious as if the whole place was staring at a banner on him that read “My boyfriend is making me wear panties and thigh highs under my suit and I’m kind of really turned on over it”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olive Lace and A Little White Bow

**Author's Note:**

> this is for my friend gina bc i love her
> 
> i also spent a lot of time thinking about how this is longer than most of my school essays woops
> 
> ps: these are the panties i based it off of ( http://i.imgur.com/Laszceh.png )

Dean would probably take how Castiel had actually convinced him to wear these – let alone during a goddamn FBI impersonation, just to work him up while he was trying to do the job – to his grave. No one could tell, obviously, what was underneath his slack and shoes, but Dean felt just as self conscious as if the whole place was staring at a banner on him that read “My boyfriend is making me wear panties and thigh highs under my suit and I’m kind of really turned on over it”. 

Noticeable or not, Dean was rushing through this poor guys explanation of the victims, how they were “such nice people” and “not related at all”, “why was the Bureau out here anyways? Is it really that dull over there? “ and quickly explained they were “just low on cases right now, decided to swing by and help out”, “we’ll talk more later” with a rushed exit.

Cas was going to be the smuggest son of a bitch if Dean fled back to the motel room, but he couldn’t be assed to care.

Sam was off at the library being the nerd he was and he had his own room anyways, right? Dean could take the impala back and he knew Cas would be there, sitting calmly with that stupid smirk on his face he got whenever he managed to work Dean up.

Dean wasn’t too sure when exactly Castiel had decided he had a bit of a sadistic streak when it came to sex, but Dean wasn’t sure if this was the best or worst thing that had happened to him yet. On one hand, this was pretty fucking humiliating, being put in something so lacy that even had a little white bow ( _fuck_ he shouldn’t’ve thought that, his dick twitching within their confines at even the thought of what he wore, temptation to grind into the steering wheel suddenly overwhelming) – on the other, he’d never been so turned on in his life.

Win some, lose some; either way, Dean was speeding and wondering how pissed Cas would be if he prayed a little bit, if Dean worked himself up even more before walking in.

He also, quietly, wondered if he’d like Cas pissed.

.

All the more show, right? The streets weren’t all that crowded, considering this was a small town, and if just did something quick at the stoplight, well –

Before he’d thought too much for more pros and cons, he was at a red light and a hand was flying down to grind a calloused palm too harshly against the zipper of his dark gray slacks, lips parting and breathing out a simple prayer: “Cas, m’comin’ back now. Couple’a miles.”

He knew Cas would also get the breathy tone wasn’t just to be quiet (which had happened, when Dean was in public but still felt a need to fuck with Cas’ head like his angel loved doing to him, praying filthy little things until there would be a text that demanded Dean come to the motel room before Cas found out where he was and flew there to take care of him in public) and that Cas just might get a little bit worked up too.

His phone buzzed from the passenger seat and Dean grinned while opening the text and glanced over the contents before hitting the gas.

_Cas: speed._

.

The rest of the drive was fucking torture; every stoplight seemed to be red and Dean took advantage of the brief moment to give himself a bit of relief that wasn’t at all enough, hoping Cas was just as bothered, would be just as aroused as he already was even before setting eyes on the what he’d picked out for Dean. He probably wouldn’t be, not until he actually got a look at what clung to Dean’s skin under his suit (it was really too hot outside for this layers bullshit, he could blame some of the crawl that followed his skin on that, right?), but a guy could dream.

Entertaining these thoughts were only pressing him further into the lace (green, olive green and floral, for fucks sake) as he made himself half hard by quick touches and heady thoughts, making driving a nightmare. By the time the motel was in his sight he was pushing 30 miles too fast, barely slowing enough to make the turn and park his baby safe and sound.

A sigh, loose air let out of pink lip as his hand drifted down just a little bit, undoing the seatbelt and just brushing over his dick.

He had really become a masochist, goddamn.

“C’mon, Winchester. Cas is waiting.” He muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders and opening the door, legs a little shaky when he stepped out on them and marched himself over to their room (106, first floor and easy access on the side because luck was in his fucking favor for once), key only staying in for a second before he slid in.

.

The lights were on when he closed the door, struggling to resist the urge to take a deep breath before turning around to face Cas –

Fuck, he was already out of that stupid trenchcoat and the suit jacket, just a sloppy blue tie and button down covering his chest. His hair was mussed, always looking like he’d had sex (which was partially convenient, since it was pretty hard to fuck it up more than it already was, so Sam could never be too sure if Dean had done anything to debauch the angel recently) and hopefully about to get a little bit more well earned of the look.

But no, that wasn’t what he was looking at, not really – not when there were molten blue eyes staring him down and pale pink lips curved into a smirk. It was a struggle not to stare at his lips when he finally spoke, voice deep and sexy and _fuck_ , Dean was _so_ screwed: “You sped.”

“You said to,” Dean squeaked – no, he didn’t squeak, just because he was wearing panties didn’t mean he _squeaked_ – he replied, yeah, replied. “And it was a mutual advantage if I did.”

Cas quirked a brow as if he knew what Dean was thinking, which he didn’t, and tilted his head with a little grin. “Congratulation on managing to say “mutual advantage” –“ air quotes should not be cute or hot in any situation, he reminded himself – “in your current state.”

Dean didn’t dignify the little shit with anything other than bitten words he had a feeling he’d regret.

“Bite me.”

The predatory grin he’d come to know and love (and, well, that always managed to make his pants a little tighter and he could feel the lace even more now, fuck his fucking pathetic kinky life) appeared the instant the words were out of his mouth and Cas gave a quick, quiet jerk of his hand in the universal “come here” signal, eyes narrowed and lustful.

“I’d love to,” and that wasn’t fair, Cas knew it too – Dean groaned against his will and drifted over to Castiel like a puppet on a string, drawn to him magnetically and pathetically needy. “Take off your jacket and shoes, would you? You must be rather warm.”

The little shit was smirking again – fucker knew it was hot outside, what a dick – but Dean obeyed regardless, shrugging the jacket off and letting it pool on the floor as he kicked off the nice, black dress shoes he had put on that morning that didn’t fucking go with the white thigh highs Cas had added to his “put on” pile and he was never admitting how much that annoyed him because the socks should be black to go with black slacks and shoes, dammit. It was a welcomed relief no matter what, though, despite being left squirming in front of Cas now.

Who was getting a little pinker, by the looks of it, and Dean waited his orders the way he knew he was supposed to and tried, with little success, to stay still. 

“Dean,” Cas panted, hinted at wrecked but not quite there yet – though glazed over eyes suggested he sure was getting there – as he gripped at Dean’s hips and shoulder, hand slotting right where it always belonged, and tugged him down to force their mouths together and for Dean to tumble down until he was straddling Cas’ lap on the bed. 

Their lips met frantically, Cas forcing Dean’s mouth to part within a second’s time of contact. Dean moaned into Cas’ lips, letting the angel’s sinful tongue lick into his mouth as desperately as he needed, as rough and quick as he wanted. He’d never thought kissing to be that enjoyable before Cas, thought he could do better for time management, but Cas kissed like his life would end if he didn’t and he might not be the best skill wise but made up for every bit of it with sheer desperation. The mixing of their breath was sweet, the taste of Cas in his mouth making everything worthwhile – he couldn’t help it, he ground down into Cas’ hips and whined, loud and every bit admitting it when Cas suddenly jerked back, lips kiss bruised and reddening.

“ ** _Cas_** ,” He hissed, glaring down and desperately wishing he could grind again, but his angel had already moved back a little too far and he made a spoiled whine in response, sounding every bit as needy as he was and knowing that it’d do just what he needed.

And oh, it did – “Dean, take off your pants.” Cas muttered, breathing stuttering and cheeks flushing just a bit at Dean’s vocal noises and complaints. “Now.”

With a wink, Dean slipped back off of Castiel’s lap (already aching at the loss of heat and contact), pretending not to be nearly as nervous as he felt. He was hyperaware of the lace his dick was pressing against, too sensitive to the garters and the cling of fabric on his legs, and Cas looked just as aware and eager, already knowing what was coming but having never seen it on Dean.

All of this had just been left in a pile with his suit and a little sticky note that said “Put them on for me :)”. When questioned, Cas has simply shrugged and smirked, giving a promise without giving one at all. 

So he may have picked it out, but he hadn’t been there when Dean had slipped them on after his shower, when he had stared at the smooth white fabric that rested up high on his thighs and were topped off with a pretty olive lace. He hadn’t seen the dark green garters (with a little band of white inside, a tiny detail that made all the difference) join the edge of the thigh highs and the bottom of the floral laced olive panties, topped with a little white band and a littler white bow. 

Cas hadn’t yet seen the contrast the white made with Dean’s skin or how the olive, even so low, kind of made his eyes stand out a little more. He hadn’t seen the snug fit his dick made in the lace, hadn’t seen the adjustments Dean had made just to keep them on and almost comfortable.

But oh, if his gaze were to indicate any, he wanted to see now.

So with trembling hands, Dean undid his belt and let Castiel watch, biting a flushed pink lower lip, and dropped the leather to the floor with the slightest clang. “Dean,” Cas urged, and Dean nodded, he knew – thumbed open the button and slipped the zipper down and, with a flutter of nerves, let the charcoal slacks hit the floor.

Cas made a noise like he was dying the second it all slid into view and fuck, his dick pulsed with even more need just at the way Cas _looked_ at him, as if he could stare and never quite be content with the time he had.

Hardly having stepped out of the pants that had joined his suit coat on the floor (he’d have to get that pressed or iron it later, if he wanted to get more use out of it), Dean was grabbed by the hips and forced into Cas’ lap, hands flitting up from his hips to his tie and frantically undoing it while Cas leaned forward, pupils blown wide and hungry.

“You have no idea –“ A peck on the lips and a forceful tug on his tie, loosening it harsher than strictly necessary – “How **_good_** –“ A harsh lick to his jaw and his tie was undone, hanging limp around his neck and under the collar of his pressed white button down – “You look right now,“ Cas was growling every word and Dean whined when the angel bit down on his earlobe, feeling buttons be frantically forced open and then parted away to reveal his chest.

“Cas, Cas c’mon,” Dean moaned, squirming at the first feeling of tongue against his chest, licking and sucking at leisure. “That’s not –“

Cas cut him off and _fuck_ , those were definitely Cas’ thumbs rubbing into the lacey panties that was straining against his hips, being pushed even tighter to Dean’s skin by the pressure there and he could feel every thread of olive lace on his erection, he’d swear he could - “Not what?” He asked, voice prim and debauched all at once, something only Cas could ever pull off.

He was gunna reply, he honestly was, completely ready to tell Cas that this was fucking unfair, but then Cas sucked particularly hard at the crest of his collar bone and a thumb ghosted over his lace covered dick and a moan came out instead of words.

“It’s not _what_ , Dean?” Cas asked, cocky and sexy as all fuck when he looked up through his lashes and pressed harder, palming Dean lazily and bringing him from half hard to too hard in a matter of 3 touches. The lace felt so good between them, even if Dean was desperate for hand to dick contact – it was different and fucking good, so good, too good because his thighs felt too hot being covered like this and he already knew there was no chance of persuading Cas to let him take them off.

“Y – you know what, fuckin –“ He was cut off by another moan when Cas shoved him back further down his lap and flipped them over, back thumping against the sheets and Cas’ face suddenly above him and then lower, lower –

“Oh, fuck, **_Cas_**.”

But there was no verbal reply save for his own cry when he felt a tongue lap at the straining lace panties and strong hands holding his thighs down, thumbs brushing over the lace trim on top and the garters that had never felt as restrictive as they did then.

Dean tilted his head back further into the bed and he writhed under Cas’ mouth, a constant stream of curses and little whines spurring from his throat despite himself. It was so _wet_ and _hot_ and Cas was seriously going to drive him insane from this alone, he could fucking come from this alone if Cas kept licking and sucking, feather light, at the lace covered head.

And that – that was before Cas made a noise in return, a little breath of “Dean,” that was too quiet and too fucking desperate. Dean’s legs tensed, pressing up as hard as he could to Cas’ hand and mouth as his own fit themselves into the angel’s hair, tugging hard and rough and it was too much not to beg, too hard to think outside of how good this felt and the reverent way Cas was looking at his dick, straining at the lace panties and flushed, leaking, so obvious in how lost he was and fuck, Dean _needed_.

“Cas – Cas, c’mon, I’m so close, please man, please,” he pleaded, shameless in his own arousal as his hips twitched up and Cas responded, eager and earnest and sucking harder than before but still refusing to take the goddamn panties off (he was almost glad, almost, but he wanted skin to skin, mouth to dick contact and he couldn’t get it but it didn’t even matter at this point because _fuck_ ).

Fuck, he wasn’t kidding anyone and when he came it was with a shout of Cas’ name and a borderline painful heat, getting licked even as he soiled the pretty lace that he’d been wearing for far too long anyways. He was oversensitive now, falling back against the bed wordless and boneless while Cas cleaned up what he could before giving up, apparently, and slipping up to settle himself on Dean’s thighs, eyes never leaving the white stained olive as he opened up his own pants and took his dick in hand, frantic strokes and breathy pants filling the room.

Dean simply laid there, complacent and seeing stars in the corner of his vision; Cas finally groaned Dean’s name and made a mess of the hunter’s chest, falling forward on a single arm that shook as it held the angel up.

There was a moment of calm where they both simply breathed, panted quietly to themselves and collected their heads before daring to try anything else.

“Fuck.” Dean muttered, laughing and throwing his arm over his head, feeling his cheeks stay pink despite himself. “That’s a bitchin’ panty kink you’ve got there, Cas.”

He didn’t need to see to know that Castiel was quirking a brow and tilting his head, knew him well enough to be able to picture it without any visual cues. “Really.”

“Yup.”

He had a lazy grin on his face and sighed when Cas shifted, grabbing what were hopefully tissues and cleaning Dean’s chest off as he replied. “Just one sided, of course,” He murmured – Dean could hear the grin in his voice, the petulant waiting that always followed these stupid talks they had.

(He wouldn’t trade it for the fucking world.)

“Yup.”

“Alright.” The angel replied, having deemed Dean clean enough to move up the bed and collapse against, leaving Dean with the feeling he wasn’t going to get to change until Cas damn well said so and wishing he could summon more will to care about how gross it was going to feel compared to the warm affection of Cas cuddling him.

Dean hummed back lazily, not finding much need for words that would just get slurred on his tongue and much preferring to revel in Cas settling his weight half on top of and half next to Dean, rustling clothes until he was settled in and locked in with Dean again.

When warm breath ghosted his ear, Dean already knew that his breath would hitch.

“So if this is just one sided, I hope you wouldn’t mind to indulge me again sometime in the very near future.”

And – well, yeah, Dean just grinned and bumped his nose against Castiel’s, opening his eyes to meet a soft grin with his own.

“I think I can do that.”


End file.
